For The Thrill
by Val-Creative
Summary: Gwen didn't imagine Lamia's profession as a venom-extractor would intrigue her so much. /Modern AU. Femmeslash.


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The low tingle of Gwen's orgasm, buzzing underneath her skin, drifted away.

She laid back on the futon with ochre, shapely legs crooked to part, her fingers thoughtfully petting soaked, black curls of her pubic hair. From her sprawling position, Gwen caught Lamia eyeing her across the bedroom, gnawing on her lip but otherwise saying nothing.

Nothing seemed easy when her girlfriend was more interested in her pets than Gwen.

Even if they were rather _impressive_ pets: a five foot red-tail boa snug round Lamia's neck and bare shoulders, with the rest of its body curled around her right arm; a three foot green tree python circled to Lamia's forearm and left hand, and drawn close to her body.

"Do you love your Mummy, Gorgon?" The naked woman hummed to the vibrantly colored python. Her kiss-puffy lips smirking as Lamia cooed, "Ooh? Do you and Ladon love Mummy?"

"Mummy should come back to bed," Gwen spoke up, voice edging raspy and hazy desire.

The other woman frowned, pensively eyeing her once more.

"I'd have to shower… "

For sanitary reasons Gwen understood, but still a noisy, amused laugh flew from her lips.

"Surely I can occupy myself until then," she replied, sending a flushing Lamia a coquettish smile before pushing two of her fingers inside herself and moaning breathy. The stretch hardly registered, not after Lamia's earlier preparation and hot slide of her tongue.

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Guinevere Regina had been only fifteen when her beliefs of security crumbled.

During their travels in Central America, her father and Elyan discovered a nest of pit adders. Tom died from the venom reaching his heart. She had been sure Elyan would die too.

But the local encampment, where Gwen found herself quivering in shock and grief, discovered the fastest route to the hospital.

Lucky for Elyan, the doctors kept a stock of the anti-venom.

One of the volunteers who often came by the hospital room had been a young woman. A long, thin face, shock of clear-water blue eyes, and perhaps eighteen years old. Judging by how translucently pale she was, Gwen supposed her job had been an interior one.

She wasn't wrong.

Lamia had been in-training as a snake-milker, or "venom-extractor" as the professionals deemed it. One of the most dangerous occupations on the planet and it _saved_ Elyan's life.

It took hardly an effort for her to offer Lamia a cup of overly sugared hospital coffee and sit with her in private, growing fond of her soft-spoken nature and mystery.

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As much as the serpentarium unnerved her, Gwen fought the London traffic and braved security.

Leon winked as she approached quickly passing him off a hearty roast beef sandwich.

Gwen's watch read two after noon, around the time Lamia washed up for a lunch break. She located her girlfriend turning down the fluorescent lit corridor, shedding her lab coat.

Lamia's eyes went round.

"What on earth are you doi—?"

Gwen yanked her into a dark, unused room. At their presence, the sensitive lights dimmed on, halogen-white and glowing dusky.

"Sorry, I brought you leftovers," Gwen murmured, beaming.

As she presented the crinkled brown-bag, Lamia pursed her lips, feigning annoyance but Gwen _knew_ that pout. She knew how much coaxing it took to open Lamia's mouth against hers, tasting heat and saliva and cinnamon toothpaste, as her tiny frame crowded Gwen's.

Hands dragged over Lamia's plain cotton blouse, tugging it from her trouser hem.

A stifled groan—or was it a _laugh_—reverberated as cool fingertips etched Lamia's ticklish sides.

"Think you like getting me into trouble," came a whisper so low Gwen had to strain to hear.

She grinned, unable to deny it considering the situation, leaning in to kiss Lamia's jaw. Taking a deep breath of the faintest scent of ammonia and lemon-cleaner.

The reminder of how _forbidden_ this was with cameras everywhere, or maybe Leon on-duty peeking on Gwen fondling Lamia's clothed breasts, was sort of _brilliant_.

"It's entirely possible."

A flash of arousal stole up Gwen's body, already pulsing damp to her silk underwear, as she felt Lamia's teeth and mouth sucking on her neck. She bit down on Gwen's reddening flesh, enough for it to _hurt_. Gwen's knees could have given under her weight.

If not for the empty, stainless steel table they bumped into, and Gwen scooting herself atop.

Lamia's tongue could truly be an _addictive_, wicked creature.

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_Heyyyy! Another week of pornathon! This is an ultra rarepair and I loved working on it. I hope you enjoyed reading and any feedback is appreciated!_


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